isaacngym

You feel the alcohol in your system, sending your head spinning in circles. You shouldn't be driving. Then again, you shouldn't have made out with Pudge one moment and then talked to Jake the other. You shouldn't have been spending all your years at high school smoking, smoking to die, getting drunk of your arse, sneaking into the other dorms and playing pranks and all the little other things like the porn and fucking around and You shouldn't have thrown that tantrum on the day to the zoo and you shouldn't have let your mom die and youmostdefinitelyshouldn'thaveforgottenthedayshedied, no, especially because it was your fault she's six feet un

In the end, who are we? Are we just a collection of memes and personal filters and constructs and models which talk to each to each other to give us the impression of a mind, to give us this consciousness which can think? Or does each and every one of us really have a mind, something which we can call our own? Think of the unborn babies. Did they even know they existed? How could they, when they had nothing to sense it with? It has a life, but does it have a mind? If it had a mind, could it use that mind? And if it could use that mind, then, how could it have possibly thought anything, or experienced anything when it can sense nothing?

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All his friend's words and their helping hands Wasn't enough for a second chance. He was shattered, he was broken, And in the end, he was the unspoken. He liked his corner, he hated the stares. He hated the way they dared him to dance. He begged to be leave, he begged to be let go, But he knew they'd never say no When the time came, and his sanity was at stake, He butchered it And replaced it with hate.

The concert's over and you can't really feel an atmosphere of anything in the air. But he felt disappointed he screwed up somewhere and at the same time he felt that post-performance "YEEAAHHH." and the joy of knowing that people liked it. (did they?) He wandered about for a while, then settled for talking to one of his more recent "clique"'s friends. Something crosses his mind, and he tries to think of a way to phrase it. You think too much, he berated himself mentally. Then there are the shadows of thoughts he feel-hears (feel-hears.  feelhears. fears. fears.)thoughts of memories of both reality and fantasy and Deja vu before he sweeps